


As Food to Life

by Mara



Category: Kamen Rider Kuuga
Genre: Food, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-13
Updated: 2015-01-13
Packaged: 2018-03-07 09:18:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3169562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mara/pseuds/Mara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Godai and Ichijou ate a meal together, it was a hurried bowl of oden at a stall two blocks from the police station.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As Food to Life

**Author's Note:**

> So my husband was watching a documentary on food in Japan...and this happened.

The first time Godai and Ichijou ate a meal together, it was a hurried bowl of oden at a stall two blocks from the police station. Godai didn't say anything, but a week later when they were still talking at dinner time, he led Ichijou past the stall, around the corner, and three blocks down to...a stall that looked nearly identical.

Ichijou shrugged and ordered his usual, thinking nothing of it until the bowl appeared under his nose and it smelled amazing. Eyes wide, he scooped up a spoonful and discovered it tasted even better than it smelled.

Godai didn't say anything this time either, but his grin was wider than usual as he scooped broth and vegetables into his mouth.

* * *

A month later, Ichijou found himself walking down a side street he'd never noticed before and into a tiny restaurant that advertised itself as serving authentic Nepalese cuisine. Godai greeted the owner warmly and Ichijou's eyebrows went up as they discussed common acquaintances.

The goat dumplings were extraordinarily good.

Two weeks after that it was tonkatsu curry from a little place a few blocks further down. Ichijou had no idea it was supposed to be that creamy and delicious. He'd never eat the over-processed stuff again, he decided.

A week later Godai introduced him to sushi with fish so fresh, Ichijou wondered a) if they were fishing off their back porch, b) if that was illegal, and c) if he cared.

* * *

Ichijou hadn't even known there was a French-Vietnamese food cart this close to the police station, but their bánh mì was a work of art. Godai said their baguettes were the closest thing to French baking he'd had since he was in Paris and worked in a bakery. Ichijou didn't know about Paris but he knew what he liked.

He brought a sandwich back for Sugita and Sakurai to share, just so he could hear them moan as embarrassingly as he had.

* * *

Smothering a yawn, Ichijou strode down the police station hall toward their meeting room before skidding to a halt. That smell...he blinked. It was definitely the smell of coffee, but not police station coffee. It smelled like really good coffee, brewed by someone who knew what they were doing.

He opened the door cautiously, lips twitching as he saw the crowd gathered around Godai, who was demonstrating the proper use of a slow-drip coffee maker to an enthralled audience.

Fortunately, nobody was looking at him, so he was able to get his expression under control before striding to the board and putting up the maps he'd been working on late the night before.

Behind him, he could hear the group scattering and he carefully didn't look until everyone was busily working again. When a cup of coffee—prepared exactly the way he liked it—appeared at his elbow, he glanced over at Godai, unable to resist giving him a small smile as he took the cup.

* * *

Godai made himself at home in the police station, just as he did everywhere he went. Sometimes, he appeared with manjū from "a little place I found last year in Chuo-ko" and sometimes he could be found showing the policewomen how to carve white radish and beetroot roses. 

(Sasayama blushed almost as red as the beetroot when she saw Ichijou watching, but she never stopped her careful slicing. Ichijou was impressed with her skill, actually, but he was afraid that if he said so, it might renew her unfortunate crush on him.)

* * *

No matter where they were in the city, no matter the time of day or month of the year, Godai knew someone, somewhere, who could give them a good meal. Whether it was shabu shabu in Hibiya, dim sum in Shinjuku, yakitori in Asakusa, or authentic Italian pasta in Roppongi, there was food and drink and a story. 

Sometimes one of the other officers came with them, or Enokida or Sawatari, but most often it was Godai and Ichijou at a corner table and Godai explaining how he'd once nearly fallen down a mountain with the owner's cousin's wife's best friend.

* * *

When the final battle was over and Godai was gone, Ichijou spent several months more in Tokyo. The paperwork alone could have kept him there forever, he thought, but the entire team was reluctant to disband too soon.

Partially, there was the concern there might be more creatures out there, hiding, and partially because after a year of living in each other's pockets, nobody knew what to do next.

Ichijou finally knew he had to leave, though, when the pitying looks when he mentioned Godai's name grew too frequent. It was time to go back to Nagano. Time to go...home?

The problem was, he thought with annoyance as they packed up boxes, he wasn't sure it was home any longer. Certainly, he had an apartment there, with furniture and a few mementoes. And he'd worked there far longer than he'd worked in Tokyo.

But Tsubaki was here. And Enokida. And Minori and Sawatari and Jean Michel. 

And a great many memories of Godai were here.

Ichijou sighed. It was time to go back to Nagano.

* * *

Settling back into his apartment and his job weren't nearly as bad as he expected. Within days, his routine was back to something approximating what it had been.

The difficult thing, he found, was food. Nothing he cooked tasted quite right and none of the restaurants he'd eaten at for years was any good. He'd never realized how mediocre they were, but now he knew better.

He started a hunt, scouring the Internet for reviews, spending off-hours searching the streets for places that looked interesting. He couldn't help treating it like an investigation, complete with a small notebook that he used to keep track of his progress.

Over the course of months, he developed his own network of food stalls and restaurants serving cuisines of the world. Each place he discovered led him to another, run by someone's brother or cousin or niece, and he found himself welcomed like family. Ducking his head, he gratefully accepted the special of the day, never becoming as outgoing as Godai, but willing to sit with the owner and listen to their troubles. 

Sometimes those troubles were even things a police officer could help to solve, such as the protection scheme that was burning down food carts. He received a commendation and a promotion for cracking that case.

In return for his help and patronage, he was given recipes. Many of them were beyond his own cooking skills, but he did try and he was grateful for each of them, which he carefully stored in a kitchen drawer.

Then one night he came home, tired and annoyed at an obstinate coworker, only to smell something unexpected when he opened the door.

Someone was cooking in his kitchen. Ichijou had his suspicions, but he pulled his gun and moved quietly around the corner.

Godai looked up from the pot of curry he was stirring, smiling broadly. "Hello," he said.

Ichijou found his gun hand was surprisingly shaky as he lowered the weapon and put the safety back on. He laid the gun down on the counter before stepping forward.

Godai sensibly put down the spoon he was holding before Ichijou hugged him. "You," Ichijou said. "It's you."

Holding him tight, Godai nodded against his shoulder. "It's me. Dinner is almost ready."

Ichijou let go enough to look at the pot and then back at Godai. "I understand now, you know."

"Hmm?"

"About the food." Ichijou swallowed. He'd been planning this part for months, just in case. "I understand what you were trying to say. And...I love you too."

Godai's grin could have powered an entire country. "You _do_ understand."

"I found a great Vietnamese place around the corner. You'll like the owner." Ichijou swallowed a few times, trying to blink back his tears.

"I'm sure I will." Godai held him tight again. "I can't wait to go there with you."

\--end--

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from Sonnet 75 by William Shakespeare:
> 
> So are you to my thoughts as food to life,  
> Or as sweet-season'd showers are to the ground;  
> And for the peace of you I hold such strife  
> As 'twixt a miser and his wealth is found;  
> Now proud as an enjoyer and anon  
> Doubting the filching age will steal his treasure,  
> Now counting best to be with you alone,  
> Then better'd that the world may see my pleasure;  
> Sometime all full with feasting on your sight  
> And by and by clean starved for a look;  
> Possessing or pursuing no delight,  
> Save what is had or must from you be took.  
> Thus do I pine and surfeit day by day,  
> Or gluttoning on all, or all away.


End file.
